


His Noah

by blackhighheels



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Babysitting, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 04:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21350146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackhighheels/pseuds/blackhighheels
Summary: His Noah - or: Two men and a baby"Gave him his pacifier, tried dancing, telling jokes, singing…" Jose plops down on the couch beside them, looking completely exhausted."Singing? No wonder you're crying, little man," Brock tells the baby."Hey, watch it, bitch!"
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Comments: 13
Kudos: 58





	His Noah

Call it coincidence, fate or divine intervention, but Brock himself has no idea what makes him watch Vanjie's insta-live for the first time in nearly two years. He sits in his hotel room, watching reality tv and scrolling through his insta feed at the same time, when he sees that Vanjie has just gone live. He muted the notification months ago and now usually simply misses the live's, but he is here for this one. He clicks on the round picture in a weak moment, when he is apparently missing the torture he is about to get. Watching live videos of your ex, who is also the only man you ever loved and who you still miss, is just that: torture. The kind that reminds him of the scene in the DaVinci Code, when the bad guy mortifies himself with a whip.

"Ok, all you mothers fathers, grandmas grandpas, nannies," Vanjie yells over what sounds suspiciously like a crying baby, "whatever, I don't give a fuck! Just help a ho out here! Tell me how I get this" at this point he angles the camera to a baby, who is lying in a baby car seat screaming bloody murder, "to stop fucking crying! Fuck!" The frustration and agony is clear as day and Brock wonders whoever thought it was a good idea to leave Vanjie alone with a baby. He has to laugh about the madness he sees on his phone screen. "Please! I'm begging you! I can't stand this." Vanjie says quieter, but it still gets picked up by the camera, the baby still crying. It's more vulnerable than the words before and therefor melts Brock's heart.Brock knows his ex well enough to pick up on the desperation. It's the soft look in his brown eyes, who look to the camera helplessly, that makes Brock stop watching the live, open his contacts and press 'call' on the one contact he hasn't called in over a year, hoping he hasn't changed his number.

"Toes?" Jose picks up after a ring or two and Brock hopes he has ended the live by now, or maybe it ends automatically when he accepts the call. Either way, he has no interest in this call showing up on Vanjie's live story. Especially, when he is apparently stressed enough to use his old nickname as a greeting. He wonders, if he still has him saved under the nickname, even after all this time apart.

"You still live?" Brock asks first, just to know what he is dealing with.

"No, ended it when you called," he replies and the cries in the background get quieter, most likely because he is walking out of the room.

"Saw your live and thought maybe I could help," Brock finally tells him and gets comfortable on his bed, so they can do a step by step analysis of what could be wrong with the crying infant, before he finds out the full story.

"You in LA?"

"Yes, I have a couple of…," he is interrupted before he can finish his sentence.

"Bitch, then get your helpful ass over here! You remember the address?" Jose yells into the phone and completely surprises Brock.

"Uh, yes, sure." He nods, like he could forget where his personal ghost lives. Seems like he is going over there and is going to see Jose again, face to face.

"Hurry!" is all Jose says before he hangs up and Brock groans as he gets out of bed, grabs his phone and wallet and leaves his hotel, still in his sweats and hoody.

***

LA traffic is a mess even in the afternoon and it takes him nearly forty-five minutes to get to Jose's apartment. When he gets there, he can hear the screaming infant before he reaches the front-door. The door is ripped open before he even has the chance to knock, Jose most likely looking out the window every five-seconds.

"Thank god, you here, Mary. Make it stop!" Jose yells as he pulls him inside by his wrist and drags him into the living room where the baby is still sitting in the same car seat on the floor, still crying pitifully.

"Hello to you too," Brock deadpans, leans down and unbuckles the baby, before he lifts him up and into his arms. "Hey, hey, it's ok," he coosand the cries get a bit quieter, but not much. "What have you tried so far?" he asks Jose and sits down on the sofa, the baby still safely in his arms.

"Gave him his pacifier, tried dancing, telling jokes, singing…" Jose plops down on the couch beside them, looking completely exhausted.

"Singing? No wonder you're crying, little man," Brock tells the baby.

"Hey, watch it, bitch!"

"Want me to leave?" Brock lifts one eyebrow challengingly.

"No!" Jose's voice is panicked.

"Have you fed him? Checked if he needs a fresh diaper?"

"Don't know how to work that formula shit and didn't want to poison him. And check his diaper? Bitch, who do you think I am? I ain't no children'-molesterer," Jose sounds so ridiculously offended as he butchers the word that Brock has to laugh.

"Where's the baby stuff?" he asks, shaking his head at the madness that always seems to surround Jose. It's so adorable that it warms his heart.

"In the bag there," Jose points to a blue bag beside the sofa.

"Ok, then hold him," Brock tries to hand over the still crying infant, but Jose shies away, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Fuck, no way. What if I drop him?"

"You won't drop him, just sit him down in you lap and hold him. He doesn't seem that small anymore. He can hold his head and all." Slowly Jose uncrosses his arms and accepts the squirming baby as Brock gets up and takes inventory of what is in the baby bag. He finds diapers, bottles, formula and several sets of spare clothes, toys and everything else one could need.

"Ok, bottle first," he decides and grabs a bottle and the formula.

"Where you going?" Jose yells, voice as high as it can go, when he leaves the room.

"Kitchen, I need hot water," Brock stops in the doorway and rolls his eyes.

"Don't leave me!" Jose looks like he might start to hyperventilate any second.

"Fine, then come help," he agrees, takes the baby from Jose and hands him the bottle and formula, which is already separated into portions with an instruction stuck on it how to prepare it. Last second, Brock ducks back into the living room and grabs a diaper and wipes, before following Jose into the kitchen.

"And now, mami?" Jose asks.

"You have bottled water?"

"Sure, in the fridge."

"Heat it up in the kettle and pour one partition of the formula into the bottle," he instructs, while he clears the table withone hand, holding the baby with the other. When the table is free, he grabs a towel and places it on the table, before he lays the baby down on top of it. He quiets down even more, seems to know what is to come. Carefully he takes off the jacket he is wearing, because it is way too warm for that inside the apartment, and then takes the tiny jogging pants off. He can already smell that a diaper change is desperately needed.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, bitch? I eat at that table!" Jose exclaims just when he opens the diaper.

"I am changing his diaper. I don't think you have a changing table," Brock gives him a pointed look. "And now stop bitching about your dining table, when we both know you always eat on the couch anyway and get me a wet washcloth and a towel." He is surprised when Jose wanders off without protest and comes back a minute later with both items.

"Made it lukewarm, so he won't freeze his ass off," he mutters as he hands them over.

"Thank you,"Brock smiles at his thoughtfulness and starts cleaning the baby and then puts a fresh diaper on him.

"Water is done."

"Good, then pour it in the bottle until it reaches the red line," Brock instructs as he re-dresses the boy, who is yammering a bit, but not really crying anymore.

"Like this?" Jose asks.

"Yup and now fill the rest with cold water, then put the cap on and shake it… carefully," he adds the last word quickly, because he knows Jose. Brock quickly checks the temperaturewhen the bottle is ready and then takes the baby back into the living room. The little boy gulps it down like he is starving. "So, who thought it was a good idea to leave you alone with a baby?" Brock asks when there is finally silence, except for the greedy sucking noises.

"My mother," Jose admits with a sheepish smile.

"What? Has she met you?"

"It is some emergency shit. Some distant cousin or second cousin or something got this girl pregnant and she lives round the corner from my mom, so she meets her sometimes. Yesterday her appedni.. appexi…" he searches for the right word in English.

"Appendix?" Brock guesses.

"Yeah, that… it ruptured and they had to take it out and she has to stay at the hospital. My mom offered to look after the little screaming baby bitch, but today she was called in for work so she asked me to watch him for an hour or two. Dumps him here with all his shit and then my idiot brother has to go and get himself fucked up in a fight. Now my mother is back at the emergency room with the idiot and I am stuck with this," he points to the baby, who is now done with the bottle and fast asleep.

"Is it bad?"

"Bitch, you saw it when you got here. I don't do little screaming humans." Brock has to bite his tongue to not point out that Jose basically just described himself.

"I mean your brother," Brock clarifies instead and rolls his eyes again.

"Broken nose, maybe broken hand, I think. Not too bad," Jose shrugs.

"He still running with the tough boys?"

"Mmh, you know it, mami. Needs to prove he all manly and shit. Haven't we all?"

"I was dancing ballet, that kind of ruined my street cred," Brock chuckles. "He's asleep," he points out then.

"Aw, he cute like this," Jose sighs.

"Can we put him down somewhere where he can't fall down?"

"We can put him back in this thing," Jose points to the car seat.

"Kids are not supposed to be in these seats for too long. It's not good," Brock knows and re-arranges the pillows on the couch, building a little fort. "You got a blanket?" he asks when he has put the baby down in between the backrest and the pillows.

"Sure, mami" Jose nods and pulls a blanket from behind the couch and covers the baby carefully. "How come you know so much about babies? Have some hidden away somewhere?" he asks then and relaxes against the remaining pillows.

"Some of my friends have kids. And, you know, I have a lot of nieces and nephews."

"Bitch, I have nieces, too. Doesn't mean I know shit about babies,"Jose snorts.

"Didn't you ever babysit?"

Jose's grin is too wide not to be suspicious. Brock knows that a story is coming his way. "They sometimes tried to make me, but she was already old enough to walk and talk. So, they'd bring her over and I'd always make her go and get me all kinds of shit from around the house. 'Be a good girl and get uncle Jose some water from the kitchen. You a big girl, you can get me the controller from the table'," he says and makes them both laugh.

"You are the actual worst, making that poor little girl work for you."

"What? I'd always like pay her ten cents or shit and she was happy and I could be lazy on the couch after slaving in retail all day."

"I bet she loves you," Brock teases.

"Haven't seen her in a while. Bro never had a problem with me being gay, but being a drag queen on tv and being all famous and fuck… he don't like it." This time Jose sounds actually sad, the amusement is gone. "And, you know, they still back in Florida." He adds like that is the main reason he doesn't see his niece, when Brock knows that it isn't. He stops Jose when he raises his thumb to his mouth by catching his hand.

"Stop biting your nails," he tells him. It's strangely familiar and weird at the same time, because he always used to do it when they were still a couple. Jose doesn't say anything but doesn't pull away either.

"How have you been, mami? Haven't heard from you in a while," he asks when the silence lasts too long and Brock can't come up with anything to say, his brain stopped working once Jose lets him hold his hand.

"I'm… good. Very busy. Travelling so much I sometimes forget where I am and what my own home looks like. I haven't seen my cats in two months," he sighs.

"Riley barely knows me anymore these days. He thinks his dog sitter is where he's home," Jose sounds sad again and Brock gives his hand a squeeze.

"Guess that's the price we pay. We have all these followers and fans and are constantly surrounded by people, but the ones that matter are not there."

"I miss my mom, my friends. Even Silks' barely home these days… Never realised it's so easy to lose contact with someone you care for. It's lonely being surrounded by people who don't really know you," Jose agrees quietly, now playing with Brock's fingers. "How long you gonna be here in LA?" he asks then.

"Another week, maybe longer. I'm actually thinking about moving here," Brock admits.

"Really?" Jose raises both eyebrows and Brock knows what he wants to say, but doesn't. Jose never understood why Brock hadn't moved to LA when they were still together. It had been one of the many topics they fought about.

"It's time. There's nothing left for me in Nashville. At least here I know some people and have some friends," he shrugs and tries to avoid making this more complicated than it has to be.

"Like Noah," Jose nods.

"Noah?" Brock has no idea who he is talking about.

"Noah," Jose repeats and points to the sleeping baby.

"His name is Noah?" Brock asks incredulously and tries not to laugh, but can't stop himself. It just bursts out of him.

"Bitch, what's so fucking funny about the name that you snorting laughing?" Jose asks confused, even though the corners of his mouth twitch with amusement.

"You finally find your Noah and this is how you treat him?" Brock says between gasps of laughter, basically doubling over on Jose's couch.

"You motherfucking bitch,"Jose exclaims loudly and slaps Brocks shoulder repeatedly, but has to laugh as well. Brock tries to catch his hands and a playful wrestling match starts that Brock wins, when he finally manages to catch Jose's hands and then pins him down on the couch. They lock eyes and suddenly there's a tension in between them that they haven't felt in a long time. Brock remembers similar situations and how they always ended with at least kissing Jose, because he was never able to resist. He yearns to lean down and kiss him, feel his soft lips against his again. He shouldn't… he knows it's wrong. They haven't been in contact for so long, barely know each other anymore, aren't even friends anymore…. Jose licks his lips as Brock drowns in his beautiful brown eyes. He can't help himself. Before he understands what he is doing, his lips are pressed against Jose's, who opens his mouth in acceptance. It's hot and passionate and they are kissing like teenagers who only have another minute before the parents come back home. The wet smacking sounds and soft moans would give them away in a second, if parents were anywhere near. Seems like Noah is just as good at busting them: He decides to make his presence known with a loud wail when their making-out session has lasted for about five minutes.

"Fuck," Jose groans and runs his hands through his completely messed-up hair.

"Hey, what's wrong, little man," Brock turns towards the baby and places his hand on his stomach, rubbing it carefully. Slowly the baby calms down and a minute later he is asleep again. Brock turns and looks back at Jose who has sat back up, looking questioningly at him. Brock knows they should talk, but he doesn't really know what to say. The truth would sound unbelievably cheesy, a lie would sound like he doesn't care, which couldn't be further from the truth. "I, uhm… I should go," he finally stutters.

"What? No!" Jose shouts.

"Shush, You're gonna wake him up!"

"You can't leave me alone with him! Are you crazy? My momma's gonna kill me, if she comes back and I've killed the baby! Don't need to worry about no prison, if she gets back and I fucked him up and done him wrong. She gonna kill me Mexican drug cartel style! Or do you want me to be a dead drag ho?" Jose whispers in a spitfire speed, holding on to Brock's shirt sleeve.

Even if there is nothing he would like to do more than leave and burry or sort the feelings being in Jose's presence make him feel, he realistically knows that he won't be able to burry feelings that he hadn't been able to extinguish for years. Also, he should really not leave Jose alone with the baby. "Fine," he finally sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "You better get me something to drink and order dinner. I haven't eaten anything yet, beside breakfast on the plane," he adds, because he will need the sustenance, if he has to spend hours in Jose's presence and keep his hands off him.

"Uber eats can do, boo," Jose smiles happily. "Thank you." He places a kiss on Brock's cheek, unaware that it sends his heartbeat skyrocketing, and prances off towards the kitchen where he left his phone earlier. "Shit, you left the dirty diaper on the table bitch! Now my kitchen smells like baby poop! It disgusting! I'll need to Yankee candle this room hardcore vanilla style for days to get the stink out," he yells from the kitchen. Brock sinks against the pillows, next to where Noah is sleeping, and laughs as quietly as possible, shaking his head. Oh, how he has missed his crazy drama queen.

***

They eat pizza, drink ice-cold coke and watch whatever reality tv show is on, but mostly they catch each other up on the last year of their lives. Noah keeps snoozing and Jose relaxes more and more, even with the baby in the room, and ends up lying on the couch, his legs in Brock's lap and one hand on his shoulder, as he leans against him.

"So you're not going on AllStars?"

"Nah, I don't think so. At least not now. Barely know up from down these days without having a camera shoved in my face while doing crazy challenges and being critiqued for my style," Jose shrugs. "How's it being on the other side? I know you a big bad judge now."

"It's…." out of habit Brock nearly says 'great', but he doesn't want to lie to Jose. "a lot," he finally settles on. "No matter what you say, there's always some asshole online who doesn't like it. They point out that I never won, so, like, how can I judge and give advice to others, you know?"

"Boo, don't let these fuckers get to you. You a great judge and you were a great contestant. You sent my ass packin' and nearly won." Jose is always cheering him on, always believing in him and Brock has missed that, too.

"Thank you," he says and then something else occurs to him. "So, you watched the show?" he smiles.

"Maybe," Jose admits shyly with a smile of his own. "Can't have my jush be on tv every week and not watch it, huh? 'specially when we not talking anymore."

"We could start again," Brock suggests quietly, placing his hand on Jose's knee.

"You mean talking?"

"That, too." Brock wraps one arm around Jose and slowly pulls him closer so he sits sideways in his lap.

"I'm still looking for the notebook experience," Jose admits in a whisper when they are so close their foreheads are nearly touching.

"But you already found your Noah," Brock says with a smirk.

"Shut up and stop playin'. You know what I mean and baby Noah isn't what I'm asking."

"You don't want kids?"

"Maybe one day when I'm less working and more maturely adultin'," Jose blinks and Brock swears he can feel his eyelashes touch his skin. "What about you? You wanna be housetrained and all domesticated with babies?"

"Maybe one day. With the right partner," Brock admits, what he has been thinking about lately. It has always been on the back of his mind as a vague option in the very far future.Maybe it's the age or the knowledge that he is going to live in LA soon, closer to the only person he wants to do this all with, that has him thinking about settling down with a family for the first time in his life.

"Looking for a Noah now, too?" Jose's hand wanders up over Brock's chest, stops over his heartbeat.

"No," Brock shakes his head and places his hand over Jose's when he feels him pulling back. "More like a Pedro, or Pablo. Javier maybe? Or Jose?" he asks and gently nuzzles his nose against Jose's.

"Having a thing for latinos now?"

"Only loud, beautiful Puerto-ricans, who should not be left alone with small children."

"You know it now, mami," Jose leans his forehead against Brock's.

"What do you say? Can I take you out, maybe see you again a lot more regularly once I move here? Not as your Noah, but as…" he shrugs not knowing how to continue.

"As you. Just as you." Jose kisses him softly, before slowly pulling back. The answer is perfect and also lets Brock know that he isn't the only one who has changed and matured in the years since their break-up.

"I'd like that." And this time Brock kisses him. It's tender and loving and he doesn't think he's ever kissed anyone this way before. Jose melts against him, at some point moving to straddle him. Just when it gets more passionate and Jose's hand sneaks under Brock's hoodie, there is a loud knock on the front door.

"Child, we don't even have kids yet and we still get interrupted all the time. Maybe we should forget about the kids and get a hamster instead," Jose grumbles as he climbs off Brock and makes his way to the front door.

Brock doesn't understand what is being said, because it's all in Spanish, but he recognises the voice. Quickly he sits up, straightens his clothes, runs a hand through his hair and tries over all to look like he didn't just have his tongue down Jose's throat.

"Brock, mijo, I didn't know you were here in LA," Jose's mom comes into the living room and gives him a long hug. She's still as stunning as when he saw her last.

He laughs. "I came to help."

"Yes, Jose tells me. It's good to see you. How are you? Have you eaten something? And you have to tell me how you did that eye make-up during the finale. It was stunning," the small woman rattles on, sits down beside him and picks up the baby at the same time, cradling him gently against her chest.

"Slow down, mama," Jose mutters and seems to get scolded in Spanish.He rolls his eyes so only Brock can see it and then sits down beside him, their thighs brushing against each other.

"I didn't do it myself. We judges have make-up artists who do our make-up," Brock admits and feels Jose's hand slide into his. He was always touchy-feely and it seems like that hasn't changed. And his mother was always very observant, and that hasn't changed either.

"Huh, I see. I hope you behaved in front of the baby," she looks disapprovingly at Jose, who shakes his head, looks down and smirks. "Jose!"

"What? I can't smooch my boo anymore in my own house after missing him for two years? That's some fucked up shit right there, mama," he protests and Brock chuckles, imagining his own mother's reaction, if he ever used these words to talk to her. She would most likely 'whoop his ass' as Jose always says.

"You come to my house tomorrow for breakfast and behave then. Nine o'clock, both of you. Me and Noah leave now," she decides and adds something else in Spanish that has Jose blushing bright red.

"Bye Noah, see you tomorrow," Brock tells the baby, to break the awkwardness in the room and accept the invitation at the same time.

"See you tomorrow," Jose's mom says, kisses his cheek and then leaves with Noah and all of his belongings, that Jose helps carry out to her car.

"So, uhm," he leans against the doorway when he comes back, looking nervous. "You gonna stay anyway?"

"You want me to, papi?" Brock asks, because he knows they still have a lot to talk about and he doesn't know if Jose wants to add sex to the mix already.

A more confident smile slowly spreads over Jose's face. "Get these cookies," he says and Brock gets up, reaches him in two large strides and kisses him passionately, pressing him against the doorway. "Bedroom?" he asks when they come up for air.

"Mmmh," Jose makes and pulls Brock down to him again. "Just don't get me pregnant, bitch. Don't need another Noah right away," he grins and Brock has to laugh so hard he can't kiss him for a minute or two.


End file.
